


We March As One

by spacefiend



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Background Dorian/Male Inquisitor - Freeform, Discussion of Death, Gen, Joss Lavellan, Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacefiend/pseuds/spacefiend
Summary: During preparations to enter the Darvaarad, Cassandra and the Inquisitor talk about the future.





	

Finally content with the edge, I sheathed my sword and pulled my shield from my back, checking the straps that would secure it to my arm. Unsurprisingly, they were fine, as they had been when I’d cleaned them only an hour ago.

I was attempting to keep myself occupied, and failing miserably.

The Inquisitor’s other companions were scattered around the courtyard, everyone engaged in their own final preparations for battle. Most were in groups of two or three, talking with quiet focus or forced lightness as personalities dictated. Only Dorian sat alone, turned with his back to most of the group and paging quickly through a thick book. I could see his profile, lit by a nearby torch. His expression was filled with the same barely controlled panic he’d shown over the last several days, as the Inquisitor’s condition worsened at a terrifyingly rapid rate.

I’d lost a love before. I remembered too well how it felt, the terrible feeling of loss, of emptiness. But I had never had to watch someone die slowly, over days.

It was horrible enough watching it as his friend.

I’d just resolved to go to Dorian and try to offer what comfort I could – even though he’d probably bite my hand as soon as take it – when the door to the meeting room opened and the Inquisitor stepped out. Pausing to lean against the wall, he rubbed his left hand with his right, holding his arm stiff against his chest.

In the dim light, I could see the green glow clearly.

I moved closer to him. “Inquisitor?” I asked quietly. “Are you well?” As soon as I asked the question I cursed myself for it – his face was drawn with pain, shoulders hunched with it. _He’s dying, you fool_.

“’Well’ would be a severe overstatement, I think,” he replied, a faint hint of his usual levity in his tone. “Well enough to end this, though.”

“I am – ” My words died on my tongue as I stepped closer. “Inquisitor! Your hand – ” I hadn’t seen him without gloves in days – I suspected no one but Dorian and the healers had – and the condition of his hand was worse than I could have imagined. Green lines snaked along it and disappeared up his sleeve. It was as though his skin was cracking, the corruption covering his hand so thickly that it appeared more magic than flesh. Blood pooled in several spots along his knuckles and fingernails, and I realized with horror that the thin skin of his fingers actually _had_ split in those places. I reached out instinctively, but pulled back when he flinched and hastily tugged his glove back on.

“Joss, I – I’m so sorry. I knew it was bad, but this – ”

He managed a halfhearted chuckle. “You used my name – now I know I’m dying.” More quietly, he continued. “I started losing feeling in my fingertips a bit ago. It helps, a little.”

_I can’t imagine how painful it must be._ “I’m sorry it’s come to this, my friend.”

“So am I.” He reached out with his good hand and squeezed mine once. “Though honestly, if I knew it would end like this? If my death is the price the Maker asks of me for stopping Corypheus, closing the Breach, stopping the Qunari, and for all the good we’ve done over the last three years? I’d do it again. I don’t – ” He paused, closing his eyes momentarily and taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to die. But I want even less to live only because I stood by and did nothing.” He spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear him. “Though there are some things I still wanted to do.”

I managed to keep my voice steady, though I couldn’t stop the tear that escaped. “I swear to you, Inquisitor, that we’ll do whatever we can to honor your legacy. We will carry on your work.” The promise seemed ridiculously inadequate for what we owed this man, but it was all I had to offer.

Joss smiled fractionally. “Thank you, Cassandra.” He leaned against the wall again with a soft groan of pain, massaging his hand through the glove. “I wish I’d done more for my people. I wanted to reach out more to the Dalish, try to help their relations with humans, improve the alienages – ” He stopped abruptly and gasped in pain, curling his hand tightly into his stomach.

“You have helped your people, Joss. _Truly, the Maker has called you, just as He called me, to be a Light for your People._ You’ve been an example for all of us to follow.” I wanted to reach out to comfort him, but I feared my touch would cause him more pain – and I couldn’t bear to make him suffer more.

“The Canticle of Shartan,” he said quietly.

“You have done enough, for everyone,” I continued, hoping to find the right words to ease his regrets. “You’ve led, you’ve inspired. _Take this, my champion, and free our people forever._ You’ve been a worthy champion, Joss. A worthy successor to Shartan as Her Herald, and to Ameridan as the Inquisitor. Let us take what you’ve started and carry it on.”

He stayed silent for a long moment. “ _The People will set ourselves free. Your host from the South may march alongside us._ ”

I held out my hand, formally, and he clasped it in his own. “ _It is done. We march as one._ ” In that moment, I had never more wanted a dissonant Canticle to be truth, had never felt such significance in something the Chantry held was without value. _If it will give a dying man comfort, it is not without value, and if it will inspire such a leader, I don’t know if it matters whether it’s truth._ “I promise. We will help your people.”

When he met my eyes, his lashes were damp. “It means more than I can say, to hear you say that. Thank you.” He paused. “Will you make me one more promise?”

I nodded. “Anything in my power.”

“Will you … try to keep in touch with Dorian? I’m afraid he’ll go back to Tevinter and withdraw from everything, throwing himself so hard into work that he forgets he has friends here. Just promise me that you’ll keep writing, maybe ask Bull and Varric and some of the others to do the same, even if he doesn’t write back. I ...” His voice thickened. “I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone.”

It took a long moment before I could speak. “Of course, Joss. Dorian, as little as I’d have expected it in the beginning, has become a friend in his own right, to myself and many of the others. We will look out for him.”

Joss nodded acknowledgment and thanks. Dropping his hands to his sides, he straightened up. In that moment the tired, wounded elf, grieving for his people and worried for his lover, vanished, and the Inquisitor took his place. “Well,” he said calmly, “I suppose the Qunari won’t wait for us forever, will they?”

I straightened as well. “Sadly not.” Impulsively, I reached out, placing my hand on his head in benediction. “Walk in the Maker’s light, Inquisitor. We’ll walk beside you for as long as we’re able.”


End file.
